


Bespin Revisited

by Seasider



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker duel in Cloud City with disastrous results
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	Bespin Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> I updated the ending on 1/25/21 since it wasn’t clear to readers. Now should be! 😘

Finally, the chase was ended. The boy was here, within his grasp. It had been a long pursuit, from the revelation of his name during the chaotic aftermath of the destruction of the Death Star to here in the gray mechanical underbelly of pristine Cloud City. Luke had crossed the finish line of his race. There would be no escape.

 _Luke Skywalker_. The name rolled silently through his mind. _His_ choice. Padme was certain that the baby was a girl and had picked out a name she had never shared. _It will be a surprise,_ she’d said. _I will love anyone who comes from you and me, but it will be a boy,_ he’d teased, remembering his mother telling him how wonderful it was to have a son. _But I will love a girl as much,_ he’d told Padme, imagining a miniature version of her.

Luke _was_ a miniature. Despite the descriptions and occasional snaps, Vader had not been prepared for how small the boy was. Not a youngling, but nearly. And so strong, so… glowing. Intellectually, Vader knew his appearance reflected a combination of the contrasting lights in the chamber and his red lenses, but his emotions told him that his child was beautiful, his face well defined, his eyes, unblinking, guarded, huge with determination. Alas, predictably Luke did what all Jedi did: he ignited his lightsaber first. Vader paused, allowing a moment to underline the fact that Luke was the aggressor. He could feel the boy’s calm acceptance though the realization gave him a beat of hesitation. It did not, however, stop him; his son struck.

Vader parried, and they moved as though choreographed. So easily he caused his son to tumble down the stairs, and so pleased he was to see the boy scramble quickly to his feet, lightsaber returning to a defensive position.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

Ah, his son was _sassy!_ It was amusing and satisfying. No weakling, this. But also no swordsman. Had Obi-Wan not even taught him the basics? Luke moved like he’d learned the positions by reading historical fiction about swashbucklers. That wide stance would not serve him well forever.

But the boy could leap! Escaping from the carbon freeze pit and using the cryonic steam against his father— a clever, quick-witted child. What a Sith he would make. What an apprentice!

And what a son. For a father was what young Skywalker craved, much as he himself had wished as a child. Vader had read the intelligence reports with a sharp understanding and noted those few overheard references about becoming a Jedi like his father. What a waste of valuable time that would be. Soon Luke would learn that true power belonged to the Sith. The Dark Side was his heritage.

They were both becoming tired—Luke, his strength fading, and Vader, his patience dwindling. Fixtures torn from walls, crates broken free, everything thrown at the boy who began staggering as he flailed his saber around like a useless stick. The child was exhausted and battered, his clothing in tatters, but still he refused to surrender.

Vader felt a few seconds of long-forgotten, sickening fear when he saw his son sucked through the window to certain peril. There was a great abyss below— but Luke caught himself and was struggling back onto the gantry. Vader made his way down, his tolerance spent, eager to begin the process of drawing his son to his side.

He was done testing the boy. His child ran from him, fleeing toward a fatal choice. Most unfortunate. With more experience, Luke would learn not to position himself into dead end, a place without escape. Vader pursued him along the walkway, pushing hard, the boy fighting gusts of wind as well as his foe. They battled, both swinging wildly, blocking blows and—

Sharp stabs of pain rushed up his arm into his shoulder. Vader grunted in agony. Neural connections were severed, and spasms shot from his prosthetic wrist, traveling to where they connected with his flesh. Disbelieving, he stared as his gloved hand, still gripping the lightsaber, was sucked into the wind tunnel.

 _No!_ Extending with the Force, he drew it back to him, his severed fingers and saber landing on the gantry, rushing toward his outstretched hand. With surprising speed, Luke threw himself on top of them, his own lightsaber skittering out of his grasp.

Vader stared in disbelief. Truly his son was someone who acted impulsively, bringing to mind another young Skywalker. “You realize,” he said slowly, “that with the Force, I can trigger the saber and pierce it through your body.”

After barely a second of horrified comprehension, Luke rolled off the saber and grabbed the hilt, grimacing as he pulled off the hand, staring at its severed wiring before throwing it aside.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Luke. I have no desire to destroy you.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” his boy said bitterly. He struggled to one knee and held the point of the red blade to Vader’s throat.

The child couldn’t see his smile beneath the mask, but he would hear the amusement in Vader’s voice. “So… you would commit patricide with my own saber?”

Luke’s eyes widened.

Vader smirked, satisfied that his son was on the brink of knowledge. “Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father.”

The saber didn’t waver and neither did the gaze. “He did.”

Vader’s confidence wavered, then returned. “Indeed? Exactly what did he say?”

“He told me that I’m his padawan’s son. Anakin Skywalker.”

 _Padawan?_ That was how the bastard Kenobi referred to him? _“I_ was Anakin Skywalker, the _Chosen One,”_ he snarled. _“I_ am your father.”

Luke nodded. “I know.”

Of all the scenarios he had reviewed in his mind, this one had never been imagined. “And you would kill _me?_ Your own father?”

“I don’t want to.” There was truth and sadness in the boy’s steady gaze. “But there’s no other way to end the terror you’ve created and continue to inflict on the galaxy.” The saber dipped, slicing the chained fastener of his cape. Luke faltered and drew it back, and Vader noted that his hand shook.

“I see you don’t want this, Son. Kenobi has infected you with his poison. You don’t need to avenge his death. Let _me_ train you. We can end this conflict. Together we can bring peace to the galaxy.” Distantly he remembered Palpatine saying similar words when he was anointed as Darth Vader. It hadn’t worked out then, but this time would be different. This was his _son._

“No.” The response was firm and unwavering.

With regret, he saw clearly that there was no bargaining, no pleading, no logic that would divert his son’s purpose. Luke had been trained that his destiny was to destroy Darth Vader, no matter that his enemy was his father.

Darth Vader could not allow that to happen. In the space of a heartbeat, he called the other lightsaber to him— Anakin Skywalker’s clear blue blade— and pushed it through his child’s torso.

For a moment Luke was motionless, then the smaller body collapsed onto him. Vader rolled him off, but kept his dying child close. “I’m sorry, Son. It is better this way. Even if I trained you, Palpatine would have you, and that would be the end of both of us. You would take my place.”

With his remaining hand, he stroked wetness off his son’s face as the young life bled slowly away. “I cannot allow my child to suffer my fate. No one should have to live this way.”

“I... know… Father….” Luke strained to look at him, pain and grief forcing a few frozen tears out of his eyes. “You’re...right…. It’s better… this way…. I forgive you and... I’m sorry….”

He felt Luke’s arm reach up, struggling for a final embrace. Regret touched his heart briefly, but it truly was better that his son die. Luke was too weak to be a Sith; he had no desire for revenge or—

Vader looked down. A flash of red flare brightly across his lenses and he saw his own crimson lightsaber protruding through his chest, short-circuiting his life support, piercing through his body. Astonished, he watched as his son died with tears still on his cheeks. He felt pain and then…

Nothing. But… what did he feel? Was that Padme behind him? Did he sense her? Did she touch his face? Had she come back to him after all? He struggled to peer through the darkness, but the only thing that was visible before his vision faded was blood… his… or hers… or their son’s...soaking the blond hair that fanned limply across his chest.

# # #


End file.
